


some things i will not miss

by youcouldmakealife



Series: between the teeth [39]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first day of training camp is a little like the first day of school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	some things i will not miss

The first day of training camp is a little like the first day of school. The longer you’ve been in the room, the more people you know, and the less nerve-wracking it is. There’s still always something new: new teammates, new prospects, new lines, maybe a new coaching staff entirely. In the case of his first day in the Capitals room, the only familiar will be Oleg. It’s comforting, not just that David will have him there but knowing he’s new too. David still doesn’t sleep well the night before, even though he knows he needs to be well rested. Went to bed early then ended up just staring at the ceiling of his new bedroom, the same flat white as the ceiling of his last bedroom, tried and failed to slow his heartbeat.

He’s awake an hour before his alarm goes off, and after he gets out of the shower he has a text from Oleg, _want to get breakfast before camp?_. David wonders if Oleg is nervous too, woke before his alarm, like David, but it’s more likely that he’s up early because his children are up early.

David doesn’t hesitate, types _yeah, tell me where._ then goes to get dressed, grabs a banana and a bottle of water for the trip, and he’s walking into some upscale cafe not far from Kettler when his alarm was set to go off. 

Oleg’s already ordered: coffee for himself, tea for David, two spinach and egg sandwiches. 

“Nervous?” he asks, when David sits down.

David shrugs. “Do I look nervous?” he asks.

“Yes,” Oleg says, and smirks when David frowns at him.

“You aren’t nervous?” David asks.

“Of course I am,” Oleg says. “I played for the Islanders my whole career, was captain.”

“They better give you an A,” David says.

“Already angry this early?” Oleg asks. “Save your energy.”

“I’m not angry,” David says, but he knows he will be if they don’t.

David eats fast, drinks his tea, ends up watching Oleg finish up. He says he’s nervous, but he doesn’t look nervous. David doesn’t know if he just said he was so David would feel better, or if he’s really good at hiding it. Either way, David’s envious.

Even though Oleg took his time, they’re still early, and only a few guys are there. David doesn’t know if that’s better, that the introductions are spread out whenever someone comes in, or if it would have been better to get them over with. Quincy’s already there, grins when he sees them. He has a good handshake, firm but not too firm, the kind you’re supposed to have in business, politics.

Quincy’s from the Capital Region. David knew that — there aren’t all that many players from Ottawa and the Ontario towns nearby — Gatineau is another story, Quebec always is. He can count Ontarian Capital Region players on two hands.

“Ironic that we swapped one capital for another, hey?” Quincy asks, after saying it’s nice to finally meet David, though they met in that handshake line, telling him he’s from Arnprior. Arnprior’s forty-five minutes outside of Ottawa, no more Ottawa than, well. They’re currently standing in a rink in Virginia, so David supposes it isn’t relevant.

“Missed the politics?” David says.

“Fuck, politics of the locker room are enough, thanks,” Quincy says. “Eh Oleg?” David wonders if Oleg told him to call him that or he just decided he could. Oleg went back to Virginia on his own, a few times, said he had dinner with Quincy and his wife. Said they were nice. 

“There are some things I will not miss,” Oleg says. 

David knows he shouldn’t be sticking as close to Oleg as he does during introductions, even though it’s the most efficient way to meet the team. Can anticipate the comments, knows they’ll be something about him clinging to the coattails of his former captain. Oleg’s still his captain, David doesn’t anticipate that changing, but he knows better than to say that aloud. It’s just easier, with Oleg there, doing most of the talking for the both of them.

Oleg isn’t outgoing, like David can tell Quincy is, just from interviews he watched, talking to him for two minutes, outgoing like Jake or Kiro. But he isn’t shy either, or — that’s not the right word, really. He doesn’t talk too much, but when he does, he always says the right thing, always knows what to say. David envies him for that, even more, perhaps, than he envies Jake and Kiro’s ease with people, because David knows he could never be like them, no matter how hard he tried. With Oleg, it doesn’t look like it’s easy, just like he’s good at it, like it’s something that could be achieved with practice. Maybe it can be. It feels less difficult now than it did years ago, though David doubts it will ever be easy.

It’s a blur of new people, some who will be there at the end of camp — there are a few David’s sure of, usually the ones who were a thorn in his side when they played the Capitals — many who won’t be. David doesn’t get everyone’s name, but he knows he’ll learn them later, as training camp wears on, or they’ll go down to the A, to Juniors, and David won’t need to remember them. There aren’t many guys that particularly stand out, David just knows all of them are smiling. It’s a relief, returning. Even in a new room, David feels that relief too.

Once the introductions are done, the coaching staff coming in and giving everyone their assignments, a rough sketch of how things are going to go, David pushes down the fact he’s surrounded by strangers, thinks only about what he’s got to prove. No matter how good you are, how much conditioning you do, training camp’s never easy, it’s supposed to be hard, and after the Capitals put down that kind of money for him, that kind of term, David needs to prove he deserves it.

David hasn’t played anywhere but the first line since his slip, Oleg hasn’t played anywhere but first line for at least the past five years, but that was the Islanders, and they’re not on the Islanders anymore. The Capitals didn’t have an explosive first line, but they weren’t bad either, and people assume David and Oleg were signed for centre and left on the first line, but there’s no guarantee, not if one or both of them play badly, if someone is outstanding.

They put them together a lot, though, through the week, cycle through right wingers until they find someone who clicks pretty well with them, not as well as Bradley, but not bad, at least in practices. David knows they’ll be trying again during the exhibition games, seeing whether that holds up in a game instead of a scrimmage.

David’s exhausted, when it’s over, when guys are cut, sent down, when the Capitals roster is trimmed to the bones of it and the guys on the bubble who’ll be using the exhibition games as a final tryout. He hasn’t talked to Kiro at all this week, barely answered his texts, hasn’t been able to focus on anything that isn’t that locker room, that ice, so he calls Kiro while he’s making himself dinner.

“Davidson, you live!” Kiro says, answering on the second ring.

“Sorry, training camp’s — hard,” David says.

“For Art Ross winner Davidson Chapman,” Kiro says. “Impossible for the rest of us.”

David winces. “Stop bringing up the Art Ross.”

“Never,” Kiro says cheerfully. “How is Washington?” 

“Fine,” David says. “Everyone seems nice enough. How are things with the Panthers?” David asks. “How’s—” Jake, but it’s not really any of his business. “How’s training camp?”

“Good,” Kiro says, then, “a little weird.”

“Weird how?” David asks.

“I was expecting Lourdes to be weird,” Kiro says, and David is tempted to ask how he’s being weird, but decides against it. “But I feel like — he is not the only one being weird. Maybe I am just paranoid.”

“Oh,” David says, stomach turning. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Kiro asks.

“Who?” David asks. “Is it—” Is it half the room? Even if Jake never told anyone, after that, which David isn’t really confident about even though Jake promised, secrets have a way of coming to the surface.

“David,” Kiro says, and David can hear him frowning even through the phone.

“Who?” David asks. “Kiro.”

“Forster,” Kiro says. “Gallagher. Parent, maybe, I am not sure if that is just his face.”

“That’s it?” David asks. “That’s—” Better than he thought.

“That’s?” Kiro asks.

“He told them,” David says. “I mean. About me. Or, us, I guess.” They were still an ‘us’, then, David supposes. “I guess. Like, I mean, I told you, I’m no better.” Not that Jake ever seemed against it, and he came out to his team himself, but that didn’t give David the right. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought about that until now, feels like a hypocrite. “I guess he told them about you, or something.”

“Okay, I am completely confused,” Kiro says. “Please help the dumb Russian.”

“You’re not dumb,” David says, frowning.

“I am not understanding,” Kiro says. “So help.”

“Sorry,” David says. “I.”

Kiro waits for a minute, then sighs loudly.

“Sorry,” David repeats. “I guess I — we were together, I didn’t want anyone to know, he did, he told some Panthers. That’s it. So they know. And I guess he mentioned you at some point. I don’t know. We weren’t together then, I ended things, after — but. I don’t know.”

Kiro’s quiet. David’s not sure how much sense he made. He hasn’t said it out loud, really, and it’s still tangled, ugly, in his head.

“Is it still confusing?” David asks. “I didn’t mean to be confusing.”

“You were in relationship, he told people without your permission, you broke up with him?” Kiro asks. He makes it sound so simple.

“Yeah, I — freaked out on him, I guess,” David says. He’s feeling freaked out now, honestly, heart going too fast. “I don’t know why they’re being weird to you, I’m sorry if it’s because you’re friends with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Kiro asks.

“I didn’t know it’d be relevant,” David says. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising to me,” Kiro says.

David bites down a reflexive apology. “I could text Jake,” David says, though the idea of texting him, getting ignored, makes his stomach knot up further. “Tell him to get them to back off. Are they being awful?”

“Just weird,” Kiro says. “I did not understand, but I think I do now.”

“Should I text him?” David asks. “I can text him.”

“No, I can handle it,” Kiro says. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” David asks. 

Kiro’s quiet for a moment. “How’s Olezhka?”

“You know Oleg hates you calling him that,” David says.

“That is why I do it!” Kiro says. “He frowns so big.”

“Oleg’s good,” David says. “How’s Emily?”

Emily is also good, though Kiro answers the question a lot more detail than David did about Oleg. David was sort of depending on that, and Kiro catches him up while he finishes making dinner, and then tells him some stuff about Sunrise while he’s eating it. 

“It is too hot,” Kiro says. “I am going to die.”

“I thought you were going to get a tan,” David says.

“I am going to burn and die,” Kiro says, and David chokes on a piece of chicken.

“Not _you_ , Davidson!” Kiro says.

David coughs. “I shouldn’t eat around you,” he says. 

“I am a choking hazard,” Kiro says agreeably.

David hoped Kiro would stay off topic, but he doesn’t. “I am going out to dinner with a few teammates,” Kiro says. “But. You are okay?”

“I’m fine,” David says, then, before Kiro can say anything, “Really.”

He finishes dinner around when Kiro has to leave, goes to rinse his plate, looks at his phone sitting on the table.

Kiro said he could handle it, but it’s David’s fault he’s dealing with it in the first place. Or, not David’s fault, he didn’t ask for this, but it’s because of David, because he’s friends with David, unless Jake and guys who know about David and only guys who know about David are being weird for some other, totally unrelated reason, which seems unlikely.

David picks up his phone, thumbs through his contacts, slow. No matter how slowly he goes, it doesn’t take long to get to J.

 _Please don’t be weird with Volkov because of me_ , David sends, then realising that he’s got a new number, _It’s David._

He loosely clasps his phone, warm where it was pressed to his cheek. Waiting for an answer, not sure why he’s waiting. Jake could be driving to that dinner with Kiro. Jake could be out, away from his phone. Jake could be planning on ignoring the text entirely. 

_ok_ , David receives, after two minutes, stares at it, hard, as if staring at it would make it more than two letters. His phone vibrates in his hand again, this time with the addition of _im sorry_. 

David has no idea how to answer that. No problem? It’s fine? You're forgiven? None of them feel right, and none of them are true.

 _Thank you._ , he writes, finally, and puts the phone down.


End file.
